


Come Over

by mrhd



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Comeplay, Established Relationship, Hair Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: Geralt has a thing about being covered in Jaskier's come.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 319





	Come Over

Jaskier has Geralt on all fours when the idea comes to him. He’s watching the flex of Geralt’s back muscles, admiring the line of it as he grips his hips and pounds into him. Geralt tosses his head, his hair fanning out across his shoulders, and Jaskier thinks, _That’s where I want to come_.

“Can I come in it?” he blurts. And maybe he should be embarrassed, it’s weird, and dirty, and more than a little gross, but he can hardly find proper shame at the best of times and definitely not when he’s balls deep in Geralt’s glorious ass.

Geralt grunts at him and shoves back, meeting his next thrust. “You’ve come in it before,” he grumbles, his voice deep and sex-rough.

Jaskier is confused for a minute, because he definitely _hasn’t_ ever come in Geralt’s wild, tangled, distracting, incredible hair, but then he realizes that Geralt thinks he’s talking about his ass. “Not here,” he says, giving the side of Geralt’s ass a little smack.

Geralt gasps, Jaskier knows that he likes it.

“Here,” Jaskier continues, lifting his hand to tug on a fistful of Geralt’s hair.

Geralt groans again. That he likes having his hair played with is one of the first things Jaskier had learned about him in bed and he takes shameless advantage of it. Right now he just tugs gently and holds, keeping the tension.

Geralt doesn’t say anything, just shudders.

Just when Jaskier is about to tell him to forget it that it’s fine, Geralt says, “Do it.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Jaskier breathes, fucking harder into Geralt.

Geralt moans and tries to drop his head, but the grip Jaskier has on his hair stops him.

“Thank you, thank you,” Jaskier babbles, fucking to bring himself right to the edge.

When he does feel his balls start to tighten and his spine start to tingle he pulls out, placing his spare hand on Geralt’s back to steady himself and to push Geralt down so he can straddle him, just above his ass.

Geralt grunts and starts humping the bedroll beneath them.

Jaskier pulls his hair back again, until it’s trailing far down his shoulder and frantically jerks himself off with his spare hand. He doesn’t last long before he’s shooting ropes up Geralt’s back, up the line of his spine into the ends of his hair where it’s spread out along his shoulder blades. He pumps himself through the aftershocks, feeling dizzy from the force of the orgasm, his legs shaking.

Clumsily he climbs off Geralt and collapses to the side, his hand still on Geralt’s back, rubbing his come into his skin.

Geralt groans again, he’s all deep wordless noises in bed and it drives Jaskier crazy, and turns his head to look at him.

“Gods, Geralt, that was so hot,” Jaskier says. He shimmies, reaching down between them so he can get his hand around Geralt’s cock. It’s thick and hot and hard in his hand, ready to come. “So good,” Jaskier says, “so good to me.” He drops a kiss on Geralt’s shoulder. “Love it, love you.”

Geralt shakes, he always does when Jaskier whispers sweet nothings in his ears. But they’re not nothings, and sometimes Jaskier just can’t help himself.

“Go on, make yourself even more messy,” Jaskier encourages, and Geralt does, coming into his hand.

When he does, Jaskier removes his dirty hand from Geralt’s back and tangles it in his hair, yanking so Geralt has to lift and twist his head to meet Jaskier in a kiss. It’s filthy, all wet and breathy and uncoordinated as Geralt comes.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” Jaskier says once Geralt’s breathing smooths out.

“Mm,” Geralt says. He looks lazy and sated, so Jaskier offers his hand, the one covered in Geralt’s come, to him.

Geralt licks his palm and then sucks Jaskier’s fingers into his mouth, one by one. If Jaskier hadn’t just come this would get him hard again, but when they’re both sated, like this, it’s nice, and Geralt seems to like both something to focus on and something to do with his mouth. One day, Jaskier swears, he’s going to fuck Geralt’s mouth until it’s numb and hurt and he can’t take it anymore. But he’s already come in Geralt’s hair, which is an overwhelming feeling just now.

“So hot,” Jaskier tells him once his hand is mostly clean, leaning forward and kissing Geralt’s chin.

“Hm,” Geralt says, like he always does, like he doesn’t believe it. Jaskier doesn’t quite understand why or how, Geralt both knows what he looks like, and should be able to tell from the come on his back that Jaskier likes it.

“It’s true,” Jaskier says, like he always does. He lifts Geralt’s elbow with his arm and settles beneath it, curled up against Geralt’s chest. He trails one hand up and over Geralt’s shoulder to grab at a fistful of hair to hold. Geralt does the same, winding his fingers into the hair at the back of Jaskier’s head, holding him close as they fall asleep.

* * *

The next day on the road, Jaskier can’t stop sneaking glancing at Geralt. His hair _looks_ the same as it always does, a little dirty, a little tangled, but it’s not obvious that it has Jaskier’s come in it.

He shivers a little every time he thinks about it. And he’s sure his scent is spiking with lust when it does. But Geralt doesn’t seem to be reacting to it. Luckily, Jaskier’s cock has similarly restrained itself to just twitching and not obscenely tenting his breeches. Yet.

He wants to pull Geralt down off Roach and fuck his mouth with his tongue so badly it’s distracting. He brings his lute out for something else to focus on, but he ends up just playing snippets of songs and scales, his brain too scattered.

Suddenly, Geralt pulls on Roach’s reigns and leads her off the path, clomping through the woods.

“Geralt?” Jaskier calls, coming to a stop in the middle of the road. He sighs. “Ridiculous man,” he mutters, putting his loot back in his case. “Geralt, wait up!”

The twigs and bushes snag at his pants and slow him down, because Jaskier doesn’t have a fucking horse to trample down the undergrowth for him. Luckily Geralt hasn’t gone too far, just far enough that the road is no longer visible. He’s busy tying Roach to a tree as Jaskier approaches.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s going on?”

Quickly, taking Jaskier by surprise, Geralt grabs his arm and swings him around by it, pinning him to a tree.

Jaskier gasps, the motion going straight to his cock.

Geralt growls and puts his teeth on Jaskier’s neck. “I can _smell you_ ,” he rumbles. “In my _hair_. It’s all I can smell.”

“Oh, _gods_ , that’s hot,” Jaskier has time to pant before Geralt is kissing him, filthy and deep, all wet tongues and clacking teeth.

Jaskier’s hands come up to tangle in Geralt’s hair and tug on it as Geralt starts shoving their pants down far enough to rut their cocks together.

He must be really worked up, hard and hot immediately against Jaskier’s stomach, and he’s coming quickly, all over their shirts.

“Oh, fuck, Geralt, that was even hotter,” Jaskier pants.

Geralt doesn’t say anything, just dropping to his knees in his dirt, cock still hard and bobbing obscenely out of his fly.

Jaskier groans helplessly.

Geralt actually _licks his lips_ before he swallows Jaskier’s cock, eager and messy.

“Oh fuck, shit, Geralt,” Jaskier babbles, clenching his fists in Geralt’s hair.

Geralt moans around Jaskier’s cock, pressing him closer and opening his throat.

“So good, so hot, so beautiful,” Jaskier babbles, dropping one hand to run it over Geralt’s cheekbone, his hollowed cheeks, his throat, where he can feel his own dick. Gods.

Geralt’s hands clench on Jaskier’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and Jaskier revels in it. He flexes them a little, Geralt is gripping his as an anchor, not to still him, and Geralt moans again, the vibrations strong against the head of Jaskier’s cock.

“So fucking good to me, the best,” Jaskier praises, rocking his hips, wanting to make Geralt’s lips even redder and more bruised than they already are. He yanks Geralt’s hair upwards and Geralt shivers with his whole body. Jaskier can’t help the stream of filthy moans and groans falling out of his mouth, his mind melting.

Geralt knows him and his tells, and just when Jaskier’s balls start to tighten, Geralt pulls back.

Jaskier growls and yanks on his hair.

Geralt doesn’t seem to mind, he just looks blissed out, his eyes wide, mouth red and open as he pants. “Come on my face,” he says, his voice breathless. “Come all over me.”

Jaskier misses his next breath. “So perfect,” he wonders. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Geralt keeps his mouth open, clearly hoping to still get some of Jaskier’s come in his mouth, his eyes closed, face relaxed, as he wraps his big, warm, callused hands around Jaskier’s cock and jerks it.

It doesn’t take very long before Jaskier is following Geralt’s wishes and coming all over his face, forcing his eyes to stay open so he can watch his come streaking across his cheeks, even back into the hair at his temples, into the hair falling around his face.

He looks exquisite.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier says, dropping to his knees so he can take Geralt’s face in his hands and kiss him.

Geralt makes a little sighing sound of contentment into the kiss, tongue lazily flicking back at Jaskier’s.

Jaskier pulls back again to look at Geralt’s filthy face. It’s not subtle in the least, he’s clearly had someone come on him, and he looks so _happy_ about it. Jaskier wants to keep him like this forever, but there’s also twigs and roots digging into his knees, so he leans forward a little, licking at a stripe of come on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt lets out a little shuddering moan.

“You like that, gorgeous?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt nods eagerly, head tilted trustingly.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” Jaskier tells him, and then he devotes himself to cleaning Geralt’s face with his tongue.

Geralt keeps making these shocked little gasps as he does, his hands bunching in the hem of Jaskier’s shirt.

It’s incredibly hot. Jaskier wishes he was a teenager still and could get hard again.

Geralt, however, is making his impending orgasm noises, grunts and gasps, and Jaskier’s head spins, because his hands are on Geralt’s neck and jaw and Geralt’s are on his hips.

But Geralt still groans loud and deep in his chest, and then he’s coming, untouched, onto the ground between them and onto Jaskier’s breeches. His hands tighten as he does, ripping Jaskier’s shirt.

Jaskier smiles and pulls what’s left of his shirt off over his head.

Geralt keeps his hands on Jaskier’s hips.

“You’re the hottest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with,” Jaskier tells him, sucking a dollop of come off of Geralt’s nose.

“Flatterer,” Geralt accuses vaguely.

“Mm, all true, my love,” Jaskier says, chasing another smear over Geralt’s eyebrow. “I know you don’t think so, but you really are gorgeous.”

Geralt just hums as Jaskier finishes licking his face clean. His mouth tastes like come and sweat and dirt now, and he fucking loves it.

He pulls back, surveying Geralt’s face, and Geralt grabs the hand on his cheek before he can move it, nuzzling into the palm.

“Sweet too,” Jaskier murmurs.

If Geralt’s eyes were open, Jaskier is sure he would be rolling them. But instead he just presses a kiss to Jaskier’s plam, then his wrist, then shifts closer so he can kiss the crook of his elbow.

Jaskier takes his free hand and runs it through what he can of Geralt’s tangled mess of hair. Between the come and the tugging it’s quite the mess, but Jaskier tries to smooth out what he can. “You’ll need a wash, my love,” he says, as Geralt trails his mouth up the underside of his arm, nuzzling at Jaskier’s armpit, mouthing at the hair there. He rests his forehead on Jaskier’s shoulder, face in his armpit as his breathing evens out, slows.

“Mm, you really liked that, didn’t you?” Jaskier asks, still running his fingers gently through Geralt’s hair, rubbing lightly at his scalp. The other hand he entangles with Geralt’s.

Geralt hums and affirmative.

The forest floor is still uncomfortable. They’re both covered in dirt and clinging come, the air chilling the sweat on Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier can’t help squirming now and then when Geralt’s exhales tickle him, but Jaskier doesn’t really mind any of it, not if it means he gets Geralt trusting and lax against him.

He drops a kiss on Geralt’s head and whispers, “Love you,” against his ear.

Geralt shivers and mumbles something unintelligible back against Jaskier’s skin.

It’s enough.


End file.
